Chapter 706 - The case of plants
After their morning routine, Irina and Astron packed their belongings and left their hotel suite. The streets of Solren Heights buzzed with activity as they made their way to the train station. The glowing mana-infused vines and enchanted structures of Arcadia Dominion slowly began to fade into the distance as the luxury express train awaited them at the station.
This time, the itinerary was clear—they were leaving Arcadia Dominion. Irina, as the meticulous planner she was, had ensured that their paperwork was in perfect order, their disguised identities accounted for at every step. The transition across borders was seamless, the advanced magical documentation functioning without a hitch as they passed through the checkpoint.
The train itself was just as luxurious as the one they had boarded the day before. The mana-infused exterior glimmered faintly under the midday sun as they settled into their private cabin. Large windows offered a panoramic view of the countryside, blending Arcadia's magical glow with the less luminous but equally charming landscapes of the Valerian Federation.
******
As the train began to move, Irina pulled out her notebook, flipping it open with a sense of purpose. "Alright," she began, catching Astron's attention. "Here's the plan for this leg of the trip."
Astron leaned back in his seat, his sharp purple eyes meeting her hazel ones. "Let's hear it."
Irina smirked, clearly enjoying the role of guide. "We're heading to Everhall City. It's one of the larger cities in the Valerian Federation, known for its blend of modern technology and magical integration. Unlike Arcadia Dominion, where magic saturates everything, Everhall has a balance—practical, efficient, but still imaginative."
Astron raised an eyebrow. "And what do you have planned there?"
Irina's smirk widened. "First, we'll explore the Cloudspire Gardens. It's an artificial oasis in the middle of the city, filled with magically sustained flora from all over the world. After that, I've got tickets to the Mana-Motion Festival. It's a cultural event showcasing magical innovations and performances. Think dancing light constructs, enchanted music, and food stalls with dishes infused with unique mana properties."
"Dancing?" Astron repeated, his tone calm but carrying a faint note of disbelief. He glanced at Irina, his sharp purple eyes narrowing slightly. "I never thought I'd hear you talking about something like that."
Irina huffed, leaning back in her seat with a confident smirk. "Heh, dancing. But this isn't your typical ballroom affair or some mundane jig. The local tradition here is something entirely unique—Mana Reverie Dance."
"Mana Reverie Dance?" Astron raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued despite himself.
"Yes!" Irina exclaimed, her hazel eyes lighting up with excitement. "It's a blend of physical movement and mana manipulation. The performers weave mana patterns into the air as they move, creating these breathtaking visual effects. The dance is synchronized with enchanted music, and the whole thing feels like stepping into another world."
"You seem…oddly invested in this."
Irina's cheeks flushed faintly, but she crossed her arms and continued with her usual confidence. "Well, I've always wanted to experience something like this—a festival steeped in local traditions, something completely different from what I grew up with. But between family responsibilities and training, I never had the chance."
Her voice softened slightly, a wistful note slipping through. "I used to imagine what it would be like to visit places like this, where people celebrate freely, without worrying about politics or reputation. Just… enjoying life."
Astron didn't reply immediately, his gaze lingering on her. She wasn't often this open about her desires, and the rare glimpse into her more vulnerable side didn't go unnoticed.
Irina, noticing his silence, quickly regained her composure and shot him a playful look. "Don't tell me you're too stiff to enjoy something like this. I'm not letting you stand around in the corner like some statue while everyone else has fun."
"You're assuming I'll even join in."
"Oh, you will," Irina said confidently, pointing a finger at him. "Because I'll make sure of it."
Astron sighed softly, leaning back in his seat. "We'll see."
Irina's smirk widened. "Oh, you'll see, alright. Just wait until you experience the festival—you might actually enjoy yourself for once."
******
The train gradually slowed, the rhythmic hum of mana conduits quieting as it pulled into the station. Astron and Irina gathered their belongings, stepping off into the vibrant atmosphere of Everhall City. Unlike the bustling, industrialized hubs of the Valerian Federation's high-ranked cities, this place carried a calm and almost quaint charm.
The architecture was a blend of stone and wood, infused with subtle magical enhancements. Mana lights hung like lanterns, glowing softly against the warm tones of the buildings. Small streams of water, sustained by gentle mana currents, wove through the city, creating a serene ambiance. Local vendors lined the streets, selling everything from enchanted trinkets to freshly baked bread, the aroma wafting through the air.
Irina paused, taking in the sight. "This is… different," she said, her hazel eyes wide with curiosity. "I've been to high-ranked cities in the Federation, but I've never been here before. It's nothing like I imagined."
Astron raised an eyebrow. "Different how?"
"It's less—how do I put it—industrialized? It's not a sprawling metropolis full of towering buildings and constant noise," Irina replied, gesturing at the scene. "It's more relaxed. Like a place people come to escape all that chaos. I saw pictures before, but seeing it in person is completely different."
Astron nodded slightly, his gaze scanning the surroundings with his usual calm. "It does feel… safe. Like it's in its own bubble."
Irina smiled faintly, pulling out her phone to check their hotel's location. "Alright, the hotel isn't far. Let's check in, drop off our stuff, and then head to the gardens."
*******
The hotel was as charming as the city itself—a cozy, high-class establishment that blended luxury with simplicity. After a smooth check-in process, Irina and Astron left their luggage and set out for the Cloudspire Gardens, which were only a short walk away.
As they entered the gardens, the first thing that struck them was the air—crisp and faintly floral, charged with a subtle hum of mana. The pathways were lined with vibrant plants, many of which seemed to glow faintly or shift colors in response to their surroundings. A towering tree at the center of the gardens stretched toward the sky, its leaves shimmering like gemstones in the sunlight.
"This place…" Irina said softly, her voice trailing off as she looked around in awe. "It's incredible. Some of these plants—I've only read about them."
"Indeed. Many of them are evolved….Are they artificially altered, or naturally evolved?"
Astron's normally vibrant violet eyes now glinted a cool gray, blending seamlessly with his current disguise. He crouched slightly, his sharp gaze scanning the plants with quiet precision. The subtle glow of mana in the air wasn't just a natural byproduct of the environment; it was an intricate balance of magical energy, carefully curated to sustain the unique flora surrounding them.
He reached out, his fingers brushing against the soft leaves of a plant with delicate tendrils that curled in response to his touch. Its faint, rhythmic glow pulsated faster for a moment before settling again. "This one," he said, his voice calm, "isn't purely passive. It reacts to the mana flow of whatever touches it. Likely a symbiotic species. It feeds off ambient mana but also absorbs excess energy from nearby creatures without harming them."
Irina glanced over, intrigued. "You mean it's drawing mana from us?"
"Not exactly," Astron replied, standing upright. "It's more of an exchange. It takes ambient energy we naturally exude and filters it back into the environment. A kind of natural mana recycler. Efficient."
He moved further down the path, pausing in front of a patch of flowers with crystalline petals that shimmered under the sunlight. Their colors shifted subtly, cycling through shades of blue, green, and violet. He leaned closer, observing the fine crystalline structure of the petals. "These," he began, "are fascinating. Their color changes aren't just for show—it's a defensive mechanism. The light refraction creates illusions, confusing predators. Depending on the angle of approach, you'd think the plant isn't even here."
Irina tilted her head, crouching to examine the flowers. "A natural cloaking ability?"
"More or less," Astron replied, his tone analytical. "It's not perfect, but in dense environments, it would be enough to deter most threats. And judging by the faint mana signature, it can release a short burst of energy—probably to stun or blind anything that gets too close."
Irina smiled faintly. "You've really studied this kind of thing."
Astron shrugged, moving toward a towering vine that spiraled around a metallic frame, its leaves a deep, iridescent black. "Not quite. Observation is enough." He touched one of the leaves lightly, noting the slight resistance as the vine shifted almost imperceptibly. "This one," he said, narrowing his gray eyes, "is predatory. Likely feeds on smaller creatures. Its mana signature is more active than the others—almost aggressive."
Irina frowned, stepping back slightly. "Predatory? Here?"
"It's controlled," Astron said, his calm demeanor unshaken. "The mana barrier around this area probably keeps it in check. But if you were to disrupt that…" He let his words trail off, straightening and glancing toward the towering tree at the center of the gardens. "This place is designed as a system. Each plant has a role, and the balance is maintained through subtle interactions. If one element is disturbed, the whole ecosystem would shift to compensate."
Irina crossed her arms, her hazel eyes studying him thoughtfully. "Interesting. Is this the way you work?"
"Yes," Astron replied simply. "Understanding the flow of a system—be it an environment or a situation—is key to surviving it. Even a place like this, beautiful as it seems, isn't without its dangers."
His gaze lingered on the towering tree at the center, its shimmering leaves catching the light. "That tree," he said, "is the anchor. Its roots likely channel mana to the rest of the garden, keeping everything in balance. If anything were to happen to it…" His voice softened, turning contemplative. "The entire system would collapse."
Irina followed his gaze, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "You're right. That tree is the centerpiece of the gardens. I read that its roots extend throughout the city, drawing mana from the streams and distributing it back to the environment."
Astron gave a small nod, his eyes still fixed on the tree. "Impressive design. Efficient. But fragile."
Chapter 707 - The case of plants (2)
Irina glanced at the towering vine Astron had identified as predatory, a mischievous glint sparking in her hazel eyes. "You know," she began, her tone light but laced with curiosity, "it would be fascinating to see how it reacts if someone just… gave it a little nudge."
Astron turned to her sharply, his usually calm expression now edged with caution. "Don't even think about it."
She smirked, her arms crossed as she stepped just a bit closer to the vine. "What's the worst that could happen? This place has barriers, right?"
Astron's gray eyes narrowed, his voice low and firm. "Irina."
His warning tone only fueled her amusement. "Relax, I'm kidding," she said, though her grin widened. "Mostly."
Astron's gaze remained fixed on her, and for a moment, Irina thought she saw the faintest twitch in his jaw—a rare crack in his stoic armor. It was enough to make her laugh, the sound light and teasing as she stepped back from the vine.
"Your face!" she said between giggles. "You looked like I was about to summon a horde of monsters or something."
Astron sighed, his gray eyes sharp as ever but carrying a faint glint of exasperation. "Knowing the kind of person you are, I really thought you'd do it."
Irina raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she looked up at him with mock offense. "Oh? And what kind of person do you think I am?"
Astron tilted his head slightly, his calm demeanor making the next words land with even more weight. "A fiery demoness, perhaps?"
Irina froze, her hazel eyes narrowing as she registered his choice of words. "Fiery demoness? Seriously?" Her cheeks flushed faintly as she remembered the nickname her peers had given her during training—a mix of admiration and intimidation that she hadn't entirely embraced.
"It's just a nickname," she muttered, cringing as she delivered a playful swat to his shoulder. "Don't act like it's a defining character trait."
Astron didn't even flinch, his expression calm but betraying the faintest hint of a smirk. "Is it not? It seems fitting."
Irina groaned, her hand flying to her forehead in mock despair. "Why do I even bother? You're impossible."
"Perhaps," Astron replied smoothly, brushing some imaginary dust off his sleeve, "but at least I'm consistent."
Irina huffed, though her lips quirked into a small, reluctant smile. "Fine. I'll let it slide this time. But if you call me that again…" She raised a finger in warning, though the glimmer of amusement in her eyes betrayed her bluff.
"I'll consider myself warned," Astron said evenly, though the corners of his lips twitched as if suppressing a laugh.
The two continued their walk, the ambient mana around them shimmering faintly in the late afternoon light. Irina shook her head, muttering something about stoic swordsmen and their terrible sense of humor, while Astron remained as composed as ever, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings as if nothing had happened.
Just like that, as Irina and Astron continued their walk through the garden, they followed a winding path that led to a lively section filled with artists, musicians, and enchanted tools. The Art Grove, as it was called, was a haven for creativity, where mana and art blended seamlessly to bring visions to life.
The first thing that caught their attention was a small group of people working at magical canvases. These weren't ordinary painting surfaces—each canvas shimmered with mana-infused particles, and as the artists moved their brushes, the strokes glowed faintly, leaving trails of vibrant, shifting colors. Some created serene landscapes, while others painted abstract depictions of mana flows or mythical beasts.
"This is…" Irina paused, her hazel eyes lighting up with intrigue. "Beautiful. Look at how they're using mana as part of the process."
Astron observed the scene quietly, his sharp gaze analyzing the subtle interplay of magical energy. "It's efficient," he said after a moment. "Mana isn't just powering the tools; it's part of the medium itself. The paintings are alive in a way, changing slightly based on the artist's intentions and emotions."
"I thought the same….The circuit looks for such manner…."
Irina stepped closer to one of the artists, her attention drawn to a depiction of a starry sky that seemed to ripple as though the stars were alive. "Still, it is amazing," she murmured. "It's like they're capturing the essence of the night, not just its image."
Nearby, a group of musicians played an ethereal melody using mana-infused instruments. A harp with strings made of glowing threads hummed gently, its sound weaving seamlessly with the chiming notes of crystal bells that resonated without being struck. Each instrument seemed to interact with the others, creating a harmonious symphony that enchanted everyone nearby.
"Even the music here is integrated…." Irina said, tilting her head as she listened.
Irina's gaze lingered on the glowing harp, her hazel eyes narrowing slightly as she observed the intricate interplay of mana that emanated from its strings. "It's not just the instruments working together," she said thoughtfully, tilting her head. "The mana they're channeling is synchronized. Whoever designed these instruments must have calibrated their mana circuits to harmonize with one another."
Astron glanced at her, his gray eyes steady. 'Looks like she is enjoying it.'
Realizing what she was feeling, Astron decided to play along.
He glanced at her, his gray eyes steady. "So, you're saying the music itself is an extension of their magic?"
"Exactly," Irina replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "The mana threads are binding the vibrations together, creating a resonance field. It's subtle, but you can feel it, right? The way it makes the air feel… alive."
"See those runes? They're designed to absorb any excess mana and redistribute it evenly. That's why the sound feels so natural—it's not just a performance; it's an ecosystem."
She really liked the feeling of explaining things to him. Sure having him explaining things to her was not bad, but she also liked the feeling of giving.
Only receiving knowledge made her feel like she was somehow below him? Even if that was not what he meant, overly experiencing the same thing tended to become a little boring.
As Irina and Astron wandered further into the Art Grove, they came across a small gathering of couples around a series of shimmering, empty canvases. Each canvas radiated a faint glow, and it was clear that these weren't ordinary painting surfaces. Some couples were working together, their brushes moving in tandem, while others took turns painting as their partners watched. The air around the area was filled with laughter, soft conversation, and the occasional hum of mana as the canvases responded to their creators.
Irina paused, her hazel eyes drawn to the scene. 'Painting on the spot?' The idea felt strangely compelling. There was something about the atmosphere—the ambient mana, the peaceful surroundings, the sheer creativity of it all—that made the concept seem… inviting.
"I want to try it," she said suddenly, turning to Astron with an almost childlike enthusiasm.
Astron raised an eyebrow. "Painting?"
"Yes, painting," Irina replied firmly, her excitement undeterred by his skepticism. "Look at how everyone's enjoying themselves. Don't you think it's… nice?"
Astron's gaze shifted to the couples for a moment before returning to her. "I suppose."
Irina smirked, grabbing his wrist and dragging him toward the nearest empty canvas before he could protest. A friendly attendant greeted them, explaining the activity in a warm, practiced tone. "This canvas is designed to resonate with the holder of the brush," the attendant said, gesturing to the glowing surface. "The mana within will subtly assist you, acting as a guide or corrector based on your intentions. Even if you're not experienced, it will help bring out your creativity."
Irina's smirk widened at that. "Well, that works out perfectly for me. I've already had training in painting."
Astron gave her a flat look. "Of course you have."
The attendant handed them brushes, and Irina grabbed hers with an almost triumphant air. "Let's see if you can keep up, Mr. Brooding Genius."
Astron didn't dignify her taunt with a response, taking his brush with his usual calm demeanor. He dipped it into one of the shimmering paint pools provided and made his first stroke. The result was… underwhelming. The line wavered, uneven and clumsy, much to Irina's delight.
"Oh, this is rich," Irina said, her laughter light and teasing. "You're supposed to be this all-knowing, hyper-competent guy, and you can't even paint a straight line?"
Astron glanced at her, unbothered by her teasing. "Not everyone was given noble lessons in painting as a child."
Irina waved her brush dramatically, already beginning her own painting. Her strokes were confident, and the canvas responded beautifully, enhancing her work with subtle, glowing details. "Maybe you should've signed up for a few. Look at this—perfection," she said smugly, stepping back to admire her blossoming depiction of a glowing, enchanted forest.
Astron's lips twitched faintly as he focused on his own work. His strokes were slower, more deliberate, but there was a quiet determination in his approach. The canvas, true to its nature, began to assist him, smoothing out his lines and enhancing the shapes. While it wasn't as refined as Irina's, there was a certain raw charm to the abstract shapes and faint mana flows he was beginning to create.
Irina noticed this and frowned, leaning slightly to peek at his canvas. "Hmph. It's not terrible," she admitted grudgingly. "But don't think you're catching up to me."
Astron made no comment, dipping his brush again and continuing to paint. The quiet focus on his face only spurred Irina on, her competitive spirit igniting as she added more intricate details to her own work.
'He might be good at everything else,' she thought, 'but, this time I will not let it happen easily.'
As the two finished their paintings, it became clear that Irina's work was a standout. Her canvas depicted a stunningly vibrant enchanted forest, its glowing flora intertwined with chaotic bursts of light that gave it a dynamic, almost alive quality. The spectators who had gathered around couldn't help but admire it, their voices filled with awe.
"This is incredible," one of them said, their gaze transfixed. "The details, the energy—it's so… alive!"
"Such a unique blend of beauty and chaos," another added. "It's like the forest itself is telling a story."
Irina basked in the praise, her smirk growing as she crossed her arms and gave Astron a triumphant glance. "Well, it seems I've got a natural talent for this," she said, her tone dripping with mock humility. "Maybe I should've gone into art instead of magic."
Astron, meanwhile, looked at his own canvas, which depicted an abstract representation of mana flow. While it had an intriguing concept and raw appeal, it was clear that some areas lacked the polish or resonance that Irina's work possessed. The strokes in certain spots seemed disjointed, and the overall composition didn't flow as smoothly.
Irina tilted her head, studying his painting with a faux-critical eye. "Not bad," she said, clearly relishing her victory. "But… it's a little inconsistent, don't you think? Here—this part doesn't even resonate properly."
Astron sighed softly, shaking his head as he put his brush down. 'She should have this win at least,' he thought, letting her bask in her moment.
But then Irina, emboldened by her win, leaned closer, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Maybe it's because you're not used to expressing yourself? All that cold, stoic energy—you probably have no idea how to let loose, do you?"
For that comment, strangely Astron felt something.
Chapter 708 - The case of plants (3)
"Maybe it's because you're not used to expressing yourself? All that cold, stoic energy—you probably have no idea how to let loose, do you?"
Astron froze for a moment, his sharp gray eyes narrowing slightly. "Not used to expressing myself?" he repeated, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.
Irina smirked, oblivious to the shift in his tone. "Exactly. That's probably why your painting feels so… rigid. You're always so focused, so in control. You don't know how to just let go and be free, do you?"
Astron turned to her fully, setting his brush aside. His expression remained composed, but there was a flicker of something sharper beneath the surface. "And you think chaotic brushstrokes are the epitome of freedom?" he asked, his voice deceptively mild. "Perhaps you should look a little closer. There's a fine line between freedom and a lack of direction."
Irina blinked, taken aback for a moment before recovering with a defiant huff. "Are you calling my painting directionless?"
"I'm saying," Astron replied evenly, his gaze steady, "that chaos without purpose is just noise. And maybe that's what you're comfortable with—noise. It hides the things you don't want to address."
For a moment, Irina was silent, the playful atmosphere turning unexpectedly charged. She opened her mouth to respond but stopped, a faint flush creeping into her cheeks. It wasn't anger or embarrassment—it was the realization that Astron, in his usual way, had seen straight through her.
"Well," she said after a moment, crossing her arms and turning away with a small pout, "you're still a terrible painter."
Astron's lips twitched faintly, his gaze steady as he glanced at Irina. "Then, how about another round?"
Irina blinked, caught off guard, but before she could reply, the small crowd gathered around them chimed in. A few children tugged at her sleeve, their eyes wide with admiration. "Miss, can you paint another one? Please?" one of them asked, their voice filled with awe.
Irina's expression softened, and she turned to the eager faces surrounding her. How could she say no to that? With a small smirk, she crossed her arms and glanced back at Astron. "Fine. One more. But don't blame me if your second one turns out even worse than the first."
"We'll see," Astron said evenly, picking up a fresh canvas as the two moved to their new spots.
This time, the energy between them was different. Astron's first stroke revealed a stark improvement, his brush gliding over the canvas with a new sense of purpose. It was clear he had taken note of his earlier mistakes, each movement deliberate yet fluid. His colors blended harmoniously, and his lines carried a confidence that had been absent before. Onlookers murmured in amazement, some even questioning whether he had been holding back during his first attempt.
"Look at him," one person said, their voice tinged with disbelief. "Is this really the same guy from before?"
"I know, right? It's like he transformed into a professional in a matter of minutes!"
Irina, however, paid no attention to Astron's progress. Her focus was entirely on her own canvas. She had felt something stir within her during her first painting, a faint yet undeniable sense of guidance, and she decided to trust it this time. Her strokes were bold, her colors vibrant yet precise, as if the painting was creating itself through her hands. There was no strategy, no overthinking—just her heart poured onto the canvas.
When they finished, the crowd around them grew even larger, murmuring with anticipation. Astron set down his brush, his second painting a clear testament to his rapid improvement. It depicted a breathtaking scene of an ethereal waterfall cascading into a serene lake under a shimmering aurora. Every detail was immaculate, from the light reflections on the water to the delicate threads of mana that danced within the aurora. It was as if the painting itself breathed serenity, flawless in its execution.
The crowd erupted into applause, many commenting in awe. "Was he holding back before?" one voice speculated. "This is like a completely different artist!"
But then, Irina stepped back, revealing her work. Gasps rippled through the onlookers, their attention snapping to her canvas.
Her painting wasn't just a picture—it was alive. It depicted a phoenix soaring through a night sky, its wings ablaze with flames that seemed to surge off the canvas. The moon loomed high above, its silver glow casting a serene contrast to the fiery intensity of the phoenix. The flames themselves flickered faintly as if imbued with a spark of life, and the phoenix's expression—its yearning, its determination—practically radiated from the painting.
"It's alive…" someone whispered, their tone reverent.
Another voice chimed in, "It's… it's more than a painting. It's an emotion."
Compared to Astron's flawless execution, Irina's painting was raw and filled with powerful, uncontainable emotion. While Astron's work was a masterpiece of skill and logical analysis of techniques, hers carried a soul, a story that resonated deeply with those who saw it.
Astron's gray eyes lingered on her painting for a moment before he nodded slightly, acknowledging the difference.
'Indeed…..'
It wasn't just a painting. The fire on the canvas—it was alive. Every ember seemed to breathe, fueled by an unyielding will, as if Irina herself had poured her very essence into the strokes. The crowd was right: it wasn't just a picture—it was an emotion, a story captured in a moment of raw brilliance.
As he examined it more closely, his mana senses stirred involuntarily, picking up faint traces of something deeper. The fire wasn't just an artistic illusion. No, it carried the unmistakable signature of Irina's Emberheart lineage. Her innate mana, her fiery will, had been infused into the painting, leaving behind a spark that made the flames come alive. This wasn't just skill; it was a manifestation of her soul.
'This… this is something only she could do,' Astron thought, his expression softening as he absorbed the painting's intricacies. The phoenix, its wings outstretched as if ready to embrace the heavens, radiated the same indomitable strength that Irina carried in every step, every word. The moon above, glowing with quiet serenity, provided a stark contrast to the phoenix's fiery intensity, yet it didn't feel out of place. Instead, it grounded the painting, giving it balance, a harmony between chaos and peace.
Astron couldn't help but acknowledge the beauty in what she had created. It wasn't something he could replicate—not because of a lack of skill but because this was uniquely Irina. This was her story, her talent. It was a part of her that even she might not yet understand fully, but it was undeniably there, waiting to bloom.
'She hasn't realized it yet,' he mused, his gaze drifting to Irina, who stood with her arms crossed, her smirk tugging at her lips as she watched the crowd's reactions. 'Her talent isn't just her swordsmanship or her strength. It's this—the ability to pour herself into something, to make it come alive.'
And yet, his eyes flickered back to the painting, drawn to the moon hanging above the phoenix. Something about it stirred him, an emotion he couldn't quite name. It wasn't just the phoenix's blazing wings or the vibrancy of the flames that moved him, but also the quiet, watchful presence of the moon.
The warmth that spread through his chest was unexpected, subtle yet undeniable as if something within the painting—something within Irina's emotions—was reaching out to him.
'What is this feeling?' he wondered, his fingers twitching slightly since he really couldn't understand it.
Before he could dwell on it further, Irina turned to him, her fiery gaze locking onto his. Her smirk widened, confidence radiating from her like the flames in her painting. "So," she said, tilting her head playfully. "How did I do?"
Astron blinked, momentarily thrown off by her directness, before a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He raised his hands, shaking his head slightly in quiet acknowledgment. "You did really well," he said, his voice low but sincere, carrying the weight of his admiration.
Irina froze as she caught Astron's faint smile—subtle, almost imperceptible, but undeniably there. It was a rare sight, one she'd only seen in fleeting moments. Yet, this time, something about it felt different. There was no teasing edge, no guarded undertone. Instead, it carried a quiet sincerity that sent an unexpected warmth spreading through her chest.
I can tell… she realized, her heart skipping slightly. He's holding back again, but this time, it's different. That smile… it's softer. Is he… proud of me?
Her cheeks flushed faintly, and before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "Better than you?"
Astron's smile faltered for a brief moment, his sharp gray eyes narrowing slightly. But Irina could see through it now—after all this time spent with him, she had learned to read the tiniest shifts in his expression. He wasn't annoyed; he was suppressing something, likely the faintest hint of amusement.
"Better than me," he replied evenly, though his tone carried a weight of acknowledgment that made Irina's blush deepen. His gaze, steady and calm as ever, lingered on her, almost as if he were waiting for her next move.
Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. I… I want to kiss him, she thought, the realization hitting her like a sudden wave. Her hazel eyes flicked to his lips, the idea growing stronger. Right now. Just once. Why can't I just—
But then, the murmurs of the crowd broke through her thoughts. The children who had watched her paint still hovered nearby, their admiration glowing in their eyes. Around her, people whispered about her phoenix painting, comparing it to Astron's work. The realization that they were still surrounded by so many onlookers made Irina's cheeks burn even hotter.
No way, she decided, panic bubbling in her chest. Not here. Not in front of all these people. They'd all see, and… and he'd just stare at me with that calm, unreadable face like nothing happened. No, I can't. Not now.
Without another word, she turned sharply on her heel, her movements brisk and deliberate. "I'm heading to the garden," she said over her shoulder, her voice pitched louder than usual, betraying her flustered state.
"….."
Astron did not say anything, as he just watched her leave.
Her feet carried her quickly away from the scene, her thoughts a jumbled mess of embarrassment and frustration. Coward, she scolded herself as she weaved through the crowd. You had the perfect moment, and you ran away. Ugh! Why do you always do this?
When she reached the edge of the Art Grove, the quiet ambiance of the garden washed over her. Mana-infused plants glowed softly under the evening light, their luminescence casting gentle shadows on the stone pathways. Irina let out a long, shaky breath, leaning against a nearby tree as she pressed a hand to her chest.
"Haaah…."
It was really important to calm down.
Chapter 709 - The case of plants (4)
The dimly lit office was silent save for the occasional crackle of the secure communication device on Reginald Hawkins's desk. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he listened intently to the distorted voice on the other end of the line. The quality of the connection was poor, the sizzling sound of interference cutting through the words, but the information was clear enough.
The voice was soft but precise, carrying the professionalism of someone well-versed in secrecy. "...Lady Irina Emberheart and the young man left for a trip together. From what I could observe, she didn't bring her usual entourage. No guards, no attendants. It's the least defensive state she's been in for quite some time."
Reginald's lips curled into a thin smile, his sharp eyes glinting with interest. "She left without protection? Bold. Foolish. How long ago was this?"
"Two days," the spy answered, the crackling line momentarily cutting out before stabilizing. "They slipped out of the estate quietly. If not for my position, I wouldn't have noticed."
Reginald leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the edge of his desk. "And where did they go? Did she leave any clues?"
The spy hesitated for a moment, the sizzling of the line growing louder. "I can't say for certain where they've gone, sir. They've been careful about covering their tracks. But I did find something."
"Go on," Reginald said, his voice low and measured.
"When I was cleaning Lady Irina's room, I came across a note. It appeared to be part of her trip plan. I didn't have much time to examine it, but I saw a marking—one name in particular stood out."
"What was it?" Reginald asked, his tone sharp with impatience.
"[Stellamere Museum]," the spy replied. "It was circled. I couldn't make out the rest of the note, but the marking was distinct."
Reginald mulled over the name for a moment, the gears in his mind already turning. "The Stellamere Museum… That's a few days' journey from here, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir," the spy confirmed. "It's a relatively secluded area, not one you'd expect someone like Lady Irina to frequent. If they're headed there, it's likely she has a specific purpose."
Reginald nodded slowly, his thoughts racing. A secluded location, far from the protection of the Emberheart estate… This could be exactly the opportunity we need.
"Very well," he said at last, his tone decisive. "You've done well. Continue monitoring the estate, and let me know if there are any further developments. Leave the rest to me."
"Yes, sir," the spy replied, and the line went dead with a final hiss of static.
Reginald leaned back in his chair once more, his mind already piecing together the next steps. If Irina was heading to the Stellamere Museum, it was the perfect chance to strike. Without her usual defenses, she would be vulnerable—exposed. And he would ensure that this time, there would be no escape.
Reaching for his desk communicator, he summoned his butler. Moments later, the door to his office opened, and the butler entered, bowing respectfully.
"Prepare a team," Reginald ordered, his voice calm but firm. "We may have found our opening. And send someone to confirm the routes to the Stellamere Museum. I want eyes on every path leading there."
The butler inclined his head. "At once, sir."
Reginald Hawkins sat back in his chair, the dim light from the room casting sharp shadows across his stern face. His mind was a storm of calculations and probabilities, but one fact loomed above all else: this clue, fragile as it was, might be their only chance. Irina Emberheart had left in disguise, and the use of facial artifacts made tracking her through conventional means nearly impossible. Such artifacts were rare and expensive, but with her family's resources, there was no doubt she could afford the best.
The lack of access to the Arcadia Dominion's resources compounded the challenge. As a family rooted in the Valerian Federation, the Hawkins family's reach in this region was limited. Even with their influence, operating so far from their power base was risky and inefficient. Every second spent investigating could mean Irina slipping further out of reach.
Reginald tapped a finger against the desk, his mind working through the limitations. The Stellamere Museum clue wasn't confirmed, but it was the only lead they had. He could dispatch scouts, lay ambushes along the routes, and tighten the net as much as possible—but it might not be enough.
Unless he tipped the scales.
Reginald's lips curled into a cold smile as an idea crystallized. There was something else he could use—something that few in the world could even attempt.
"Now that our scope is narrowed down," he muttered, his voice low and deliberate, "let's try to use this."
His hand moved to a drawer in the desk, pulling out a small, intricately engraved crystal orb. The artifact shimmered faintly in the dim light, pulsating with latent mana. It was a tool for magic that transcended ordinary means of investigation—a magic that required precision, mental clarity, and immense focus.
[Foresight].
This rare ability was one that Reginald had honed over decades, a skill so delicate that a single misstep could lead to catastrophic failure. It wasn't infallible, but when used correctly, it offered glimpses into possible futures, shedding light on paths that would otherwise remain shrouded in darkness.
He placed the orb on the desk, the intricate carvings glowing faintly as he began to channel his mana into it. The room darkened further as the artifact drew in his energy, responding to the complex threads of his will.
"Focus," Reginald murmured to himself, closing his eyes. The world around him seemed to fade, replaced by a vast, swirling void. Within it, faint threads of light began to appear, each one representing a possible outcome tied to Irina's journey.
His mind stretched, reaching for the strands that resonated with the clue he had been given: Stellamere Museum.
Images began to flicker in his mind—a patchwork of blurred possibilities, overlapping and shifting like a kaleidoscope. A quiet forest path. The façade of an old museum. A young woman with fiery red hair yet at the same time changing? She was walking beside a man whose features remained obscured. The scene shifted again, the museum's silhouette glowing faintly under the evening sun.
'Ah…'
There.
Reginald's concentration deepened, his focus narrowing on the faint image of Irina and her companion. The magic strained under his will, the visions threatening to fracture into incomprehensibility. But he held firm, pushing through the chaotic weave of possibilities to extract what he needed.
The visions stabilized briefly, and Reginald saw a clearer picture: Irina, her disguise partially lifted, stepping through the museum doors. Beside her, was a man with dark hair and striking purple eyes. Astron Natusalune. The name came to his mind with an almost audible clarity, tying the threads together.
CRACK!
The vision shattered like a fragile pane of glass, the swirling threads of light fracturing into jagged shards that collapsed inward. Reginald Hawkins gasped, his entire body jolting as if struck by a physical blow. His hands gripped the edges of his desk, knuckles white, as an intense wave of pain exploded through him. It felt as though his very nerves were on fire, the magic rebounding violently within his body.
"Argh!" he growled, his voice low and guttural, barely suppressing a scream. His head pounded as if a hammer were driving nails into his skull, and his chest heaved with labored breaths. His vision blurred, the room around him spinning as the aftereffects of the shattered Foresight gripped him in a vice.
Reginald clenched his jaw, forcing himself to remain upright despite the searing agony radiating from his core. The backlash from the failed spell was overwhelming, threatening to drag him into unconsciousness, but he refused to yield. His mind, though clouded with pain, latched onto the fragments of insight he had managed to glean.
Disguise… Stellamere Museum… Astron Natusalune.
The words reverberated in his thoughts, solidifying despite the storm of pain and chaos. The pieces were still there, even if the vision itself had collapsed. He had narrowed down the possibilities, and made sense of Irina's movements, and that alone was enough to justify the cost.
He let out a slow, shuddering breath, his body trembling as the pain began to subside, leaving behind a dull, aching throb in its wake. His fingers finally loosened their grip on the desk, and he leaned back in his chair, sweat beading on his forehead. The effort had taken more out of him than he'd anticipated, but it had also provided him with invaluable direction.
The butler entered the room cautiously, alerted by the muffled sound of Reginald's struggle. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of his master's pale complexion and strained expression, but he said nothing, knowing better than to comment on Reginald's condition.
"Sir," the butler began, his voice carefully measured, "is everything... under control?"
Reginald waved a hand dismissively, his usual commanding tone slightly weakened. "It's done. I've seen enough." He paused, taking another steadying breath. "Irina… She's using a disguise. Likely an artifact to mask her appearance. That's why she's been so hard to trace."
The butler nodded, quickly taking in the information. "And the Stellamere Museum?"
"She's heading there," Reginald confirmed, his voice gaining strength as he pushed past the residual pain. "That much I'm certain of. And she's with him. Astron Natusalune."
The butler's expression darkened slightly at the mention of the name. "The boy who was seen with her before? The one who—"
"Yes," Reginald interrupted sharply. "The very same. He's the key to all of this." He closed his eyes briefly, the fragmented images of the vision flashing in his mind. "They'll likely arrive at the museum soon if they aren't already there. Prepare everything."
"Understood, sir." The butler hesitated for a moment before adding, "Shall I arrange for you to rest? The strain from—"
"No," Reginald snapped, his tone firm despite the exhaustion in his voice. "There's no time for rest. Not now. We've already lost enough ground."
The butler bowed and left to carry out the orders, leaving Reginald alone in the dimly lit room once more. He exhaled slowly, the ache in his body a constant reminder of the cost of his actions. Yet, in his mind, the clarity of his findings outweighed the pain.
*****
On the other side, Irina and Astron had finished another day in a different city together, continuing their date.
And just like that they were once again in a high-class train, as Irina had prepared her whole plan.
"Heh….."
And she could finally go somewhere she had been wanting to go for a while.
'Stellamare Museum….Here I come!'
Chapter 710 - Resting is important
The rhythmic chugging of the train filled the cabin, a steady reminder that this time, their journey was far from luxurious. Irina adjusted herself in her seat, her hazel eyes narrowing slightly as the faint creaks of the older train car reached her ears. The polished elegance of the high-class trains they'd taken before was absent here—no mana-infused amenities, no seamless enchantments. Instead, the cabin was utilitarian, with modest wooden panels and windows that rattled faintly with each bump in the track.
Irina crossed her arms with a soft huff, her gaze darting toward Astron, who sat across from her with his usual unbothered demeanor. His sharp gray eyes were fixed on the passing scenery, his expression as unreadable as ever. He seemed entirely at ease as if the simplicity of this train suited him more than the previous luxury.
Irina leaned back in her seat with a quiet sigh, her gaze flicking to the window as the scenery blurred past. Her hazel eyes traced the rolling hills and the faint outlines of distant mountains, but her thoughts were elsewhere.
Why are we even stuck on this train? she grumbled inwardly, shifting in her seat. I spent so much time planning every detail of this trip, and now, this? A rickety old train that looks like it hasn't been updated in decades? She bit her lip, feeling a flicker of frustration.
Of course, she knew exactly why they were here. Stellamare City wasn't exactly a hub of luxury transportation. For some inexplicable reason, the usual high-class trains weren't available for the time being, leaving her with no choice but to settle for this.
The Stellamare Museum… Her expression softened slightly at the thought. It was a place she'd been wanting to visit for a long while. Both Julia and Lilia had sung its praises, describing it as a treasure trove of ancient artifacts, mana relics, and interactive exhibits that could bring even the driest history lessons to life. And it's not like I've had the chance before, she reminded herself. The museum was far to the west, tucked away in a region she rarely had reason to visit.
But now, with Astron accompanying her, the opportunity had finally presented itself. She'd worked hard to include this stop in their itinerary, weaving it into the flow of their journey as seamlessly as possible. She'd even gone out of her way to ensure their other accommodations were impeccable—just to balance out this train ride.
Still, as much as she was looking forward to their destination, the journey itself was proving to be a challenge. The creaking of the wooden panels, the faint draft seeping through the cracks in the windows, the lack of any enchantments to smooth the ride… It was all so different from the polished, seamless elegance of the high-class trains she was used to.
Irina sighed again, crossing her arms as she glanced at Astron. He sat perfectly still, his sharp gray eyes scanning the passing landscape as if he were taking mental notes. He didn't seem bothered in the slightest by the train's lack of luxury. If anything, he seemed more at home here than he had in the expensive carriages of the Arcane Stream Express.
Of course, he doesn't care, she thought with a small pout. He's not the one who spent hours planning this trip down to the last detail. He probably prefers this kind of simplicity anyway. Ugh, I should've known.
Considering that guy's way of doing things, this much was evident.
She leaned her head against the window, the rhythmic chugging of the train lulling her into a thoughtful silence. Her hazel eyes lingered on the blurred landscape as a memory stirred in her mind—one she hadn't thought of in a while. It had been months ago, during her return from a one-week break. The train she'd booked had been a luxury model, of course, with a private car tailored to her comfort. But midway through the journey, a malfunction had derailed her plans, forcing her into one of the standard cars.
She chuckled softly to herself. And that's where I met him.
Astron had been sitting in one of the corner seats, calm and unbothered, much like he was now. She remembered how his sharp purple eyes had glanced at her without a hint of surprise when she stormed into the train, fuming at her change in circumstances. At the time, she'd been so irritated she hadn't even bothered to notice the quiet aura of focus he carried.
I was so caught up in my own complaints, she thought with a wry smile. And there he was, completely unfazed as if trains like that were just a normal part of his life.
She glanced at him now, still the picture of composure, his gaze fixed on the window as if the passing scenery held secrets only he could see. For some reason, the memory made her smile. Without looking away from him, she decided to break the silence.
"Do you use these types of trains often?" she asked, her voice light and curious.
Astron turned his head toward her, his sharp gray eyes meeting hers. For a moment, he studied her, as if deciding whether her question warranted an answer. Then, with a small nod, he replied, "If I can't use teleportation gates, yes. Trains are reliable."
"Reliable?" Irina repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You're really okay with all this?" She gestured around them, her tone holding a hint of teasing. "The creaky wood, the rattling windows, the complete lack of amenities?"
Astron tilted his head slightly, his expression as calm as ever. "It gets me where I need to go. That's what matters."
Irina leaned back with a soft sigh, her arms crossing as she regarded him. "You're so practical sometimes it's almost boring."
"Boring or efficient?" Astron countered, his tone deceptively mild.
Irina smirked, shaking her head. "Efficient, maybe. But it is about the journey, the journey! Just how many times do I need to repeat!"
Astron raised his hand in mock defeat, the faintest trace of amusement flickering in his sharp gray eyes. "Journey, journey, I get it," he said dryly, his tone perfectly calm despite her dramatic emphasis.
Irina narrowed her eyes at him, her arms still crossed as she waited for more.
"But," he continued, his voice taking on a more thoughtful edge, "we're hunters, Irina. It's important to get used to situations like this—where you can't prioritize comfort." He gestured faintly around them, the subtle movement encompassing the creaky wooden panels and rattling windows of the train.
"I know that too," Irina replied with a huff, shifting in her seat to face him more directly. "But it's also important to enjoy life when you can. Don't tell me you think it's fine to just grind through everything without stopping to appreciate what's around you."
"To enjoy life, you need to ensure safety first," Astron said, his tone calm but firm. "And this," he gestured again to their surroundings, "contributes to that safety. If you can't adapt to discomfort, you're leaving yourself vulnerable."
"Humph!" Irina crossed her legs, leaning back with a defiant smirk. "You're just using sophistry to cover up your lack of aesthetic!"
Astron's lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile threatening to break through his composed demeanor. "And you're using aesthetics to avoid acknowledging practicality."
Irina gasped, placing a hand over her chest in mock offense. "How dare you accuse me of such shallow reasoning!"
Astron raised an eyebrow, his expression faintly amused but otherwise unreadable. "Because it's true?"
Irina leaned forward slightly, her fiery hazel eyes locking onto his. "Listen, Mr. Practicality, just because you can survive in a dingy cabin with no amenities doesn't mean you should. Life's too short to ignore the little things—like good food, warm lighting, and maybe a seat that doesn't creak every time you move!"
Astron tilted his head slightly, meeting her gaze with calm precision. "And if you get too used to those comforts, what happens when they're not there? Do you freeze up? Get distracted by how much you miss them?"
"Of course not!" Irina shot back, her tone indignant. "I'm not that fragile. I just think there's a balance, that's all. You don't have to live like a hermit just to prove a point."
"I'm not proving a point," Astron replied smoothly. "I'm preparing for reality."
Irina harrumphed, crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat with an air of indignation. "You're just escaping," she accused, her tone sharp but tinged with playful defiance.
Astron's sharp gray eyes met hers with steady calm. "It's not that easy to maintain such a line," he said, his voice measured and composed. "In theory, you can claim to enjoy life while keeping your practical skills unaffected. But in practice, you're lying to yourself most of the time. Comfort has a way of dulling sharp edges."
Irina tilted her head, her hazel eyes narrowing. "Are you saying I'm dulling my edges?"
"I'm saying it's inevitable," Astron replied smoothly. "For instance, if you don't use your magic for a week, even though the basics are engraved in your mind, your body won't move flawlessly all the time. Your reflexes will slow. Your control will waver. The same applies to my martial arts and my body."
He leaned back slightly, his gaze unwavering as he continued, "That same reasoning applies here. If you grow too reliant on comfort, you lose the ability to adapt. It's a gradual process, but it happens."
Irina frowned, her lips pressing into a thin line. "I can definitely maintain that line," she said firmly.
Astron's lips twitched faintly, a hint of amusement flashing in his eyes. "We'll see."
Irina sat up straighter, her gaze sharpening. "What do you mean, 'we'll see'?"
"Sooner or later, nighttime will come," Astron said simply, his tone even but with a faint edge of challenge. "And we'll see if you can adapt to these conditions and sleep well."
Irina gasped, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "I will definitely sleep well!"
Astron raised an eyebrow, his expression as calm as ever. "Good luck with that."
The train rattled softly as it rolled over a rough patch of track, the sound underscoring their exchange. Irina huffed, determined to prove her point. She leaned back against the worn seat, already plotting how she would make the best of the situation. I'll show him, she thought with resolve. I'll sleep so well he won't have anything to say about it.
Across from her, Astron returned his attention to the window, the faintest trace of a smirk lingering on his lips. We'll see, he thought, already predicting the restless night ahead.
*****
"Why?"
Though apparently, Irina made a mistake….
She indeed couldn't sleep well….
Had she known, she wouldn't have made such claims at all…..
Chapter 711 - Resting is important (2)
The soft hum of the train blended with the faint creaks of the wooden panels, creating a rhythm that should have been soothing. But for Irina, it was anything but. She shifted again in her seat, adjusting the thin blanket she had brought along. The night had deepened, and the cabin was bathed in the faint glow of moonlight streaming through the rattling window.
She closed her eyes tightly, willing herself to fall asleep. But every bump in the tracks sent a jolt through the seat, every faint groan of the train's old structure seemed amplified in the silence. With an exasperated sigh, she sat up, her hazel eyes flicking to Astron.
He sat across from her, his arms crossed and head leaning slightly against the backrest. His sharp features were softened in the dim light, his usually sharp gray eyes hidden behind closed lids. His chest rose and fell in an even rhythm, his expression calm and untroubled.
He's sleeping… Irina thought incredulously, her lips twitching into a pout. Of course, he's sleeping. Why wouldn't he be? He was right—again.
The realization stung, though not as much as she expected. He told me I'd struggle. That adapting to discomfort wasn't as easy as I made it out to be. She sighed softly, leaning her chin on her hand as she studied his peaceful face.
How does he do it? she wondered, her gaze lingering on him. Is it just practice? Or is it something else?
Astron's ability to adapt, to take things as they came without complaint, was something she envied in moments like these. It wasn't that she couldn't be practical—she was a Hunter, after all—but she'd always valued a balance between efficiency and enjoyment. Yet here she was, unable to sleep because of a rattling window and a hard seat.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she watched him. He's probably going to bring this up tomorrow, she thought, her cheeks flushing slightly at the idea. "I told you so," or something equally smug in that calm, unreadable tone of his.
Irina felt a pang of bubbling resentment prick at her chest, fueled partly by her own frustration and partly by the sight of Astron's peaceful sleep. How is it so easy for him? she thought, her hazel eyes narrowing slightly as she glanced at the blanket crumpled in her lap.
Her jaw tightened, and before she could second-guess herself, she stood up with a huff, the sound barely louder than the train's hum. The faint sway of the car as it moved over uneven tracks did little to deter her. The cabin consisted of a block of four seats arranged in pairs facing each other, and while she had originally taken the seat opposite Astron, she now moved to sit directly beside him.
If he's so comfortable, she thought, her irritation mingling with a touch of childish defiance, then I might as well make it a little harder for him.
The curtain separating their block from the rest of the train's interior swayed slightly as she brushed it aside. Not that it mattered—they had the entire section to themselves. Irina had rented all five blocks around them precisely so they could enjoy their journey in peace. Yet right now, that solitude only served to highlight her restless discomfort.
Sliding into the seat next to Astron, she glanced at him again. His head rested slightly against the seat's backrest, his sharp features illuminated softly by the moonlight. Even now, there was a quiet strength to him, as though nothing could truly disturb his calm.
"Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath, her voice too low to wake him.
She leaned back, crossing her arms as she stared out of the window at the darkened landscape. But her gaze kept drifting back to him, her frustration waning slightly as she took in the peaceful rhythm of his breathing.
It's not fair, she thought, her lips curving into a faint pout. How does he manage to make even this look effortless?
Irina narrowed her eyes, her frustration bubbling into a mischievous defiance. He's so calm, so serene… it's infuriating, she thought. Her gaze fell to his face, softened in sleep, and an idea crept into her mind. Before she could think better of it, her hand moved almost on its own, her index finger pressing gently against his cheek.
The faint warmth of his skin caught her attention first, followed by its texture—smooth and soft, as she had expected. Of course, it's soft, she mused. With a face like his and being an Awakened, it makes sense.
But there was something else. While his skin was soft, it wasn't squishy. His face lacked the slight layer of fat that would give it that plush quality. Instead, it was firm, the kind of firmness that spoke of someone who trained their body rigorously, every muscle and fiber in balance.
Her lips curled into a small, triumphant smirk as she pressed her finger a little harder into his cheek, testing its elasticity. The slight resistance amused her, and she found herself pressing again, just a bit more firmly, as if measuring the give and recoil.
"Heh….Now what?"
She leaned closer, her finger now tracing small circles against his skin. There was a strange satisfaction in the act, a way to release her pent-up annoyance while indulging in the rare opportunity to bother him without consequence.
Astron's face twitched slightly, but he didn't stir. Irina froze, her heart skipping a beat as she waited to see if he would wake. When he didn't, she let out a small sigh of relief, her smirk returning as she resumed her exploration.
She poked, prodded, and even tried lightly pinching the corner of his jaw, noting how the firm structure remained steadfast under her touch. Not a single ounce of squishiness, she thought, shaking her head. Just hard angles and that infuriating perfection.
Her finger lingered a moment longer before she leaned back slightly, crossing her arms as she regarded his still-sleeping face. "You're lucky you're asleep," she muttered softly, a faint pout tugging at her lips. "Otherwise, I'd have a lot more to say about how annoying you are."
Just then….Irina froze, her heart lurching in her chest as a sudden, inexplicable chill washed over her. She blinked, her gaze snapping back to Astron's face—only to find his eyes open, glowing with their unmistakable purple intensity.
"Ah?!" she exclaimed, her voice barely more than a strangled whisper. Her finger was still pressed against his cheek, but now, those piercing eyes locked onto hers, clear and unflinching.
It took her a moment to process the shift, but when she did, her stomach dropped. His disguise—it was gone. His usual gray eyes had been replaced by the vibrant amethyst hue she had grown accustomed to seeing only when his true face was revealed. Even his features seemed sharper now, more distinct in the dim moonlight.
How…? she thought, her mind racing. Wasn't he asleep? When did this—
"You weren't exactly subtle," Astron's voice cut through her thoughts, calm and measured as always. His lips twitched faintly, almost as if he were amused, but the sharpness in his tone was unmistakable. "Did you really think I wouldn't wake up if someone got that close to me?"
Irina's mouth opened, but no words came out. Her brain scrambled for a response, but his steady gaze held her captive.
"You weren't even trying to be stealthy," he continued, his voice carrying a faint edge of dry humor. "If I didn't wake up when something like this happened, I'd be in a much worse state in dungeons."
Her cheeks burned as his words sank in. He's been awake this whole time?! Watching me?!
"I… I wasn't…" she stammered, pulling her finger back as if it had been burned. Her face was practically glowing with embarrassment now, her hazel eyes darting anywhere but at him. "You—how long—why didn't you say anything?!"
Astron tilted his head slightly, his sharp gaze unyielding. "Because I was curious," he admitted calmly. "What exactly were you hoping to accomplish by poking and pinching my face?"
"I—I wasn't—" Irina sputtered, her thoughts a jumbled mess of indignation and humiliation. "You were asleep! How was I supposed to know you were awake?!"
"You weren't supposed to," he replied simply, leaning back against the seat as if the entire situation were entirely normal. "But you should've considered the possibility."
Irina clenched her fists, her frustration bubbling over. "You're impossible!" she hissed, her voice a mix of outrage and mortification. "You could've just said something instead of… instead of letting me make a fool of myself!"
Astron's lips twitched again, this time unmistakably forming a faint smirk. "And interrupt your little experiment?" he asked, his tone as calm as ever. "That would've been rude."
"Rude?!" Irina's voice pitched higher, her cheeks still burning. "You're the one who just sat there letting me—"
She cut herself off, burying her face in her hands with a groan. He's so infuriating! she thought, her embarrassment only growing as she replayed the scene in her mind.
Astron's smirk faded slightly as he studied her, his expression softening by a fraction. "Irina," he said quietly, his tone losing some of its teasing edge. "Next time, maybe just ask if I'm awake."
She peeked through her fingers, her hazel eyes narrowing at him. "Next time?" she repeated, her voice dripping with exasperation. "There won't be a next time!"
"Are you sure? Since I really doubt that…."
Irina groaned again. "Bastard."
SWOOSH!
And bam.
She was again on top of him.
"What are you doing?"
"Humph….how about this?"
"About what?"
"Can you sleep like this?"
"..."
"Heh….I will stay like this….Let's see if you can 'adapt' to this one as well then!"
=Irina huffed, her cheeks still warm as she adjusted herself on Astron's lap, straddling him with her legs pointed toward the window. Her head rested against his chest, and she crossed her arms in mock defiance, her hazel eyes daring him to say something.
Astron, for his part, stayed remarkably composed despite the sudden escalation. His sharp purple eyes narrowed slightly as he looked down at her, his arms resting calmly at his sides. "This case," he began, his voice calm but tinged with a faint note of incredulity, "is not entirely practical."
Irina tilted her head up to look at him, her lips twitching into a triumphant smirk. "Not practical?" she echoed. "Isn't adapting to strange situations what you preach all the time?"
Astron raised an eyebrow, the faintest trace of amusement flickering in his eyes. "There's absolutely no reason for me to practice adapting to this particular situation."
Irina grinned, her confidence growing as she leaned back slightly, her hands resting on his chest. "What if I say this is a situation I'll make you adapt to?"
For a moment, Astron simply stared at her, his expression unreadable. The train rattled softly, the only sound filling the silence between them. Then, without a word, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back slightly, as if conceding to her antics.
Irina's smirk widened, a feeling of triumph blooming in her chest. "Get used to it while you can," she declared, settling against him with a satisfied sigh.
Astron let out a quiet sigh of his own, raising a hand to rest gently on her head. He patted her lightly, his touch surprisingly soft. "Are you a child?" he asked, his tone carrying a faint edge of teasing.
Irina stiffened, her cheeks flushing once again. "I'm not a child!" she snapped, glaring up at him even as her blush betrayed her.
"You're acting like one," Astron replied evenly, though the slight upward twitch of his lips gave away his amusement.
Irina pouted, burying her face against his chest to hide her embarrassment.
Astron's hand remained on her head, patting her lightly again.
Irina couldn't think of a proper retort, so she simply stayed where she was, her head resting against him as the train rocked gently along the tracks. Despite her earlier frustration, she found the position surprisingly comfortable. Maybe he's not so impossible after all, she thought, her eyes drifting closed as a small smile tugged at her lips.
Astron glanced down at her, his expression softening for a moment before he returned his gaze to the window. The faint glow of the moonlight illuminated the cabin, casting a calm stillness over the scene as the train carried them through the night.